White Lies
by RStiltskinned
Summary: (Valentine's Day-themed one shot) It's the most romantic day of the year and Christine is late for her lessons. Erik wonders if she has a special someone and discovers that the idea bothers him more than he expected. Leroux-verse, set before the events of the novel.


**_Leroux-verse, set before the events of the novel. I'm not actually sure if Valentine's Day was a thing in the 1880s but let's pretend it was._**

February the 14th was a day on which lovers expressed their feelings for one another and gave each other gifts and generally showed off their love for all the world to see.

Needless to say, Erik hated this day with every fibre of his being. As if his ongoing loneliness wasn't bad enough already, people had to rub it in his hideous face that they enjoyed what he could never have. But thankfully, he had a distraction to keep his mind from dwelling on such miserable thoughts, and it took the form of his lovely young student. Teaching Christine had made his life considerably brighter, even if he had to keep up a rather exhausting façade to do so. Pretending to be an angel was, however, still infinitely better than facing the horror on her face if she ever discovered who he really was, so Erik was reasonably content. As long as she never found out the truth – and she never would, for she would never guess and he would never reveal himself – all was well.

Today, however, she was uncharacteristically late and he found himself growing impatient and slightly angry behind the mirror. Unless her rehearsal had been drawn out longer than usual, she was dawdling and disobeying him. And then, the thought occurred to him that, given what day it was, she might be meeting with an admirer. Then again, even though Christine certainly was a pretty young thing (not that Erik cared, of course, he had merely noticed), there seemed to be no stagehand or male performer with whom she seemed close, and she was not yet popular or even noticeable enough to have gained an admirer from among the opera guests.

However, unlike him, she was not bound to the opera and may well have met someone outside his domain. The thought that she may have found herself a suitor against his orders angered Erik immensely; he had told her explicitly that such behaviour would only distract her from her work. Not to mention that if a respectable gentleman from outside the opera won her heart and married her, she would likely never set foot on a stage again. The very idea made Erik ill.

And on top of that, the obsessive feeling, which had at first only been directed towards her voice, had, over the course of a few months, somehow also extended towards the rest of her. He did not know when exactly this change had occurred, but at some point Christine Daaé had ceased to be merely a voice that he could possess and bend to his will, and had become a person. One day, he had suddenly become aware that he was only a few feet away from a living, breathing young woman and the realisation had nearly knocked the air from his lungs. That day, some form of sentiment had begun to blossom inside his withered old heart, and he had eventually, and very begrudgingly, identified it as fondness. But unlike any other emotion he had ever felt, this one refused to be controlled by him, and he soon found, to his horror, that Christine Daaé preoccupied his mind more often than not, and quite frequently these thoughts had little to do with her voice. _Well,_ he tried to calm himself, _she is a pretty girl and you are a lonely old man. It's natural. It will pass._

But it did not pass, and now here he was, hiding behind the young lady's mirror with anger coiling in his stomach like an irritated snake – an anger that he firmly told himself was only due to her tardiness and nothing else.

Just as he was about to leave, the girl finally burst into her dressing room, red-faced, breathless, dishevelled and decidedly more lovely than Erik would have liked to admit.

She closed the door behind her and looked about worriedly. "Angel?" she whispered, "Are you here? Please forgive me for being so late, I beg you! I swear it shall not happen again!" When he did not answer, her blue eyes filled with tears. "Angel, please, say something!"

The sight of her tears broke his icy resolve immediately and he let his voice resonate through the small room.

"Do not fret, dear child, I forgive you. But you must tell your angel the reason for your tardiness! You are usually such a good girl, why are you late for your lessons today?"

His voice, as always, instantly worked its magic and Christine calmed herself. She even managed a shy smile at his reassuring words and Erik felt an odd sensation in his stomach at the sight of it.

"Well, it's awfully silly, Angel, really…" She blushed prettily, and the odd sensation intensified. "The other chorus girls were all talking about the gifts they'd received from their, ah, gentleman friends, and I was just about to leave to meet you when they asked me if I had any special man in my life – I do not, of course," she hastened to assure him, "but the girls were awfully persistent and didn't believe me."

Her words dispelled his dark thoughts from before and he felt more relief than he should have. So happy was he that he almost missed the obvious look of embarrassment that was plainly written across Christine's features. Unseen by her, he cocked an eyebrow behind the mirror.

"Your expression tells me that there is more to this tale, child. Tell your angel," he gently commanded her.

Christine's blush deepened (darn that odd sensation in his stomach!) and she fidgeted nervously. "Well…when the girls would not leave me be, I may, have, um, twisted the truth a little." He remained silent and she stammered on "I know that lying is a sin, but it was only a small lie and it won't harm anyone and they would not let me go otherwise…" Her voice trailed away.

"What did you tell them, child?"

"I…I told them that I had met a man… a brilliant musician with an angel's voice, and that he teaches me to sing. I told them of you, only I lied and said you were an ordinary man and that you were my…ah, my _suitor_." The last word came out as an almost-squeak. "I'm so sorry" she added in a hushed voice.

I took a few moments for Erik to register what she had just confessed to him.

She had told others that he was her suitor. Her gentleman friend. Her _lover_. She had been forced to name someone as her significant other and _he_ had been the first to come to mind. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Pity for this poor, naïve child who thought him an angel and worthy of her affection and guilt over having deceived her warred with overwhelming joy in his heart. He knew that she had been under pressure, and that she did not know that he was, in truth, not an angel but a man – less than a man, really – but it still warmed his soul to know that he was the first she had thought of when asked to name a lover.

Not that he would ever truly entertain such foolish notions, but it was a lovely thought nonetheless.

Her anxious voice snapped him out of his tumultuous thoughts.

"Angel? Did I anger you terribly? I know what I did was very presumptuous of me – to say you were a mere man and claim you and I…but I meant no harm! Please forgive me!" She looked earnestly frightened that she had offended him, and Erik forced himself to calm down so he could abate her worries.

"No child, you have not offended me. I know that you have a pure, honest soul and only lied so you would be left in peace. We shall not speak of it again and you need not worry over it any longer. And now, let us begin our lesson, even if there is not much time left."

Christine's face relaxed into a relieved smile. "Yes, Angel! Thank you!" She then took her usual spot in front of the mirror and readied herself to sing. But there was something sat on the tip of his tongue, and before he could lose his nerve, he spoke to her again.

"Christine?"

She looked up. "Yes?"

"I merely wanted you to know…that, were I an ordinary, mortal man…I should consider it an honour to be loved by you, Christine Daaé."

Again, she blushed, and this time the funny sensation had moved to his chest and was almost painful. "T-thank you…that was very nice of you" she replied with shy, sweet smile. Now the sensation definitely _was _painful, but oddly wonderful at the same time.

Perhaps Valentine's Day wasn't such an awful day after all.


End file.
